


Living in the Red

by Sola_Ircadia



Category: Tekken
Genre: Background Relationships, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Getting Back Together, Implied Relationships, Introspection, Lee is ambiguous af about everything and Lars has had it up to here with him, Multi, POV Outsider, Past Relationship(s), Someone please give this man a day off, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 21:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17947268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sola_Ircadia/pseuds/Sola_Ircadia
Summary: In the time that they have left, Lars steadily gets to know his allies. He learns about Alisa, who means more to him than anything. He learns about Jin, who is lonely and exhausted and so much younger than he seems. He even learns about Hwoarang, a stubborn remnant of Jin’s past who just might also be his future.And then there’s Lee. Lars already knows that he’s a lost cause, but that doesn’t stop him from looking closer, anyway.





	Living in the Red

 

For the frighteningly little that Lars knows about Lee, he certainly knows enough. Everything the man doesn’t say simultaneously translates into some other piece of information, so by the time they’re done having a conversation in which Lee espouses a million things that mean absolutely nothing, Lars can add at least a few items to his mental dossier of intel on him.

 

That being said, it’s not very impressive.

 

For starters, the things he learns don’t even mean that much, they’re just traits and habits that he identifies when observing him. He knows enough about the man himself – dangerously charming, facetious in the most artistic way, extremely intelligent, highly skilled – but next to nothing about _him_. Which is the same thing, but different. Somehow. How he functions is not the same thing as what’s made him to be this way, and while that’s personal information, it also relates pretty directly to the matters that they’re currently dealing with and maybe, just _maybe_ , it should be mentioned without prompting.

 

The point is that Lee is an unbreakable iron vault when it comes to keeping secrets that he doesn’t want to share, and no amount of subtle implications or impending doomsday will entice him into sharing what he knows. He’s all smiles and enigmatic half-truths and casual hand-waves that clear both the air and one’s thoughts like a magic spell. Even Lars has found himself appeased by a few, obvious gloss-overs, and Alisa has never _once_ managed to detect an elevated heartbeat or any sign of nervousness in the other man when they’re discussing anything of relative value.

 

It’s...frustrating to say the least. Here they are, fighting the closest thing that humans will ever come to being gods, yet he never deems any additional information as necessary to divulge. The secrets he keeps are vital, and he doesn’t shy away from that fact – he knows that his understanding of the situation is important, and yet. And yet.

 

Lars is a man of proper action, a man of quick, efficient planning and flawless execution. He likes to get things done, and he likes as much of the process to be laid out clearly and neatly ahead of time. He isn’t a squad leader for nothing. There are things that get you through the mission, and there are things that get you killed. Not knowing everything there is to know about a given circumstance is definitely something that accompanies the latter.

 

Lee...Lee is nothing like Lars has ever seen before. He’s a carefully constructed tangle of contradictions, standing in the light while his face remains hidden by shadows, his eyes always watching everything. He knows too much, even for his allotted years, intelligent beyond measure and perhaps one of the best predictors Lars has ever encountered. His backup plans have backup plans, and when push comes to shove, he has little to no reservations about just destroying everything in his path. Despite this, he still possesses traces of genuine goodness, even if his own self-interests tend to rank pretty high on his list of motivations. He’s impossible to pin down, and that makes him unbelievably dangerous.

 

He’s also loaded with money and resources, so Lars just settles for keeping an eye on things at the moment. He supposes there are worse benefactors to be associating with. At least this one’s a technological genius.

 

Another advantage of having Lee on his side is the man’s inside knowledge of their enemies – or at least, that’s what Lars is guessing at. He still doesn’t quite know for sure just how much Lee actually knows, mostly because that stubborn bastard won’t fucking _tell him_.

 

After the last few days they’ve had, Lars feels like he deserves some answers. First Kazuya Mishima transforms into a monster on live television, fully broadcasted for the whole world to see, and then he turns into an absolutely eldritch abomination in an effort to murder his father while they fight inside of a fucking volcano. Lars has endured his fair share of absurdities, but this is really starting to get ridiculous.

 

And the worst part about all of this is Lee.

 

Lars is a quick study. He has to be, has to have good instincts in order to survive in his profession. He is a master of catching the quick flashes in people’s demeanors, and Lee is not an exception to that rule, despite the fact that he’s also one of the hardest individuals that Lars has ever tried to read in his entire life. He’s good, but even he has his limits, and Lars found them when they watched Kazuya transform.

 

Shock, for a moment or two. That had been expected. A dawning horror that somehow hadn’t seemed quite right. The frantic way he’d barked his orders, only ever asking for two things: if this could be confirmed as real, and who was seeing it. All of this rounded off by something that Lars could only identify as a split-second of dismay. It had been quick, but it had been enough.

 

He’d known something he hadn’t told them. More importantly, he _still_ knows something that he _still_ hasn’t told them, and Lars? He doesn’t think he can allow that anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s our next objective?”

 

“Secret.”

 

* * *

 

Lars sits nearby as Lee gives Jin an examination, observing without being obvious about it. After the kid had woken up, Lee had insisted on giving him at least some sort of physical, and when Alisa had chimed in with her analytical two-cents there really wasn’t much arguing to be had after that. So now they’re here, Alisa dutifully playing errand nurse while Lee checks Jin over and Lars just sort of...hovers and makes sure that no one gets murdered. That’s pretty much his usual M.O. anyway.

 

Jin is perched on the edge of the counter, gazing resolutely at the far wall as Lee flutters around in his personal space. Every now and then, the silver-haired man will murmur some question that Jin usually answers in the form of a negative or affirmative grunt. Occasionally a more in-depth explanation will be required, but even that is said in as few words as possible. Lee doesn’t seem bothered by his manners, maintaining a perfect air of detached professionalism the entire time.

 

That’s...certainly something. Jin has no reason to trust any of them, but Lee’s presentation somehow managed to persuade him into allowing this. Lars hasn’t really seen him so devoid of his trademark quirks and flair before, but Lee had clearly realized that those sorts of things weren’t going to convince Jin to let him help, so he had to change tactics.

 

And what a tactics change it is. Each of Lee’s motions are controlled and deliberate, and he makes sure that Jin can clearly see everything he’s doing. Every now and then, he’ll take the time to explain something or other to him, keeping the younger man aware of his proceedings and why it’s nothing to be alarmed about. When he speaks, he keeps his voice soft and even, not much lower than usual but somehow missing the usual inflections nonetheless. All of this to prevent Jin from getting too uneasy, and somehow none of it patronizing. The man practically has it down to an art form, and Lars finds himself marveling at how easy he makes it look. That kind of thing takes years and years of practice to perfect, not to mention an in-depth understanding of the human psyche and maybe even some natural empathy. Lee has the first two elements in spades – Lars can’t be certain about the last one, but the how of it hardly matters when he’s just _this_ good at it.

 

Even wilder is how receptive Jin actually is to the treatment. It’s barely noticeable, but the thing about Jin is that he’s not exactly a professional. While the more trained individuals that Lars is accustomed to dealing with are capable of eliminating emotional behaviors in their entirety, Jin is still of the “stifle and bury it deep” variety. Lars knows where to look to find the cracks in his armor, and inexplicably enough, Lee’s behavior is hitting all the right marks. The lack of isolation, no straps or syringes, his nonthreatening tone and mannerisms – it’s a careful consideration of any fears that Jin might have without outright exposing them to everyone else. It’s harmless thoughtfulness, a simple understanding of someone’s trauma and mistrust, all underscored by something that may or may not be absolutely terrifying coming from Lee.

 

A calm and completely honest sincerity.

 

Lars has never known Lee to be straightforward in this way, and he’s certainly never known him to be sincere. Even when he’d agreed to help mend Alisa, there had been many elements in play, and his emotional profile had echoed that. Curiosity tempered by concern, all painted over with a nice shade of cautious interest. The complexities run deep with this man, so to have him broadcasting one particular demeanor so clearly is...unsettling to say the least.

 

Because that’s essentially what he’s done here. As far as Lars can tell, all self-serving interest has been erased. He’s an open book, suddenly, soft-spoken and unsurprising and so bizarrely genuine in his intentions to help Jin in this particular moment that it really is frightening. As hard as he tries, Lars can’t get anything deeper than that from him. It’s as though he simply eliminated every other emotion and desire in his body.

 

“...there we go.” Lee’s quiet murmuring breaks Lars out of his musings, and he refocuses his attention to see Jin slide off the counter as Lee steps away from him. “You’re in pretty good condition for someone who treats themselves like a tool for war. I’m impressed.”

 

Jin’s gaze is turned down, but he does nod slightly to acknowledge Lee’s information. The older man chuckles.

 

“If you really want me out of your hair, how about you eat something?”

 

This earns him a sideways glance out of narrowed eyes, quietly suspicious, and Lars sees the corner of Lee’s mouth twitch.

 

“Now, now. There’s no need to look at me like that. Everything is perfectly safe here – no one is going to hurt you.”

 

His tone is what makes it, Lars notices, that and his facial expressions. He softens the words just enough so they seem more heartfelt while still being matter-of-fact, and the edge of earnest neutrality in his eyes is executed so flawlessly that one could easily think he was always like that.

 

“And if someone tries?” Jin asks, his voice barely audible, and Lars watches with vaguely horrified fascination as a tiny smirk spreads across Lee’s face.

 

“They won’t.” He says pleasantly, but something in his tone implies murder. Lars feels his own pulse speed up ever-so-slightly at the sound of it. Still, he doesn’t speak up, opting instead to study the way that Jin and Lee stare each other down for several more seconds in some silent conversation before Jin shakes his head.

 

“If you insist.”

 

Lee beams. It could probably power this entire building if he were so inclined to harness the energy – knowing him, he probably already has.

 

“I do. Kitchens are down the hall and to the left. You should find what you need, and if you have any requests, I would be more than happy to acquire the necessary ingredients.” Lee chimes. Jin doesn’t say anything else, and if Lee thinks that Lars missed the fond look on his face as he watched the younger man leave the room, well. He would be wrong.

 

* * *

 

“You are distressed.” Alisa notes matter-of-factly. Not everything goes that way with her. For the most part, she’s actually fairly expressive, even if she doesn’t quite understand it. Her interactions with other people are rife with small declarations and cheerful exclamations, much to Lee’s infinite amusement and Lars’ unending relief. Seeing her whole and... _herself_ again has made him happier than he’d thought he would be, and not a moment in her presence goes by without some degree of thankfulness for this second chance.

 

For all of her delightful humanity, though, there are still elements of her personality that can only come from having a supercomputer for a brain. Her clinical and no-nonsense approach to the proceedings of the human body is one of those things.

 

“Not exactly.” Lars answers, and offers her his hand. “See for yourself.”

 

While Alisa gets a more accurate measure on his pulse, he uses the spare three seconds he has bought himself to try and finagle some excuse for being in this state. He quickly realizes that three seconds is not a lot of time.

 

“Ah.” When she finishes, she doesn’t let go of his hand. “You think too much, Lars.”

 

_Well, then._

 

“Is that so?” He asks, lifting one eyebrow in an expression that always makes her laugh. “What makes you say that?”

 

Her hands are small and delicate, and they fold around his own like pearlescent flower petals as she speaks, her voice clear and true.

 

“You are worried.” A moment passes, and then she meets his gaze with her own. “But you do not have to be.”

 

Her eyelashes are very long, a shade or two darker than her hair. The light in her eyes is sincere, meaningful – Alisa always says what she’s thinking, never sugar-coats her words or twists the truth for her own benefit. She is pure in her intentions with other people, only wanting what’s best and to help as much as she is able. She’s so different than what Lars is used to, but that’s not what makes her so special to him.

 

If he’s being honest, he isn’t _quite_ sure what makes her so important yet, only that she is.

 

“There’s a lot going on out there,” he says quietly. “I don’t know if what we’re doing is going to be enough.”

 

Alisa nods, and her grip on his hand tightens. The way she peers up at him with such open emotion is almost like deliverance, a near-spiritual experience in itself.

 

“I believe it will be.” She answers solemnly. “But you must also believe. And we will fight with everything we are made of to make it so.”

 

Lee, for all his pretty words, will never match Alisa’s earnest poetry. Lars feels himself smiling at her encouragement, feels the joy of it rise in his chest when Alisa mimics him.

 

“You think so?” He squeezes her hand lightly. She nods.

 

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

Lars isn’t much of an eavesdropper. Sure, he’s done his fair share of wiretaps, but those are...different. Nothing like walking into a room and accidentally overhearing a conversation that wasn’t meant for him. It always makes his soldier’s instincts kick in, and he hangs back, reflexively pressing against the wall and steadying his breathing to the point that his entire presence is silent before he even registers who’s talking.

 

“Where are you?”

 

It’s Lee. This, in itself, is not strange. Lee is constantly on the phone, but there’s something –

 

“I don’t care what’s going on. Lay low. You – ”

 

A huff, a rustle of clothes. Lee’s voice again, quieter this time.

 

“Lay _low_ , you idiot. It would be stupid to die now, wouldn’t it?”

 

Lars can’t tell who’s speaking on the other end, but they must be someone significant because he’s never heard Lee sound so distressed before. It’s more alarming than he thought it would be. Just what exactly is at stake here?

 

“Listen, I’ll get back to you. Just. Don’t do anything reckless, okay? Please.”

 

In the end, it’s just another thing about Lee that Lars will never understand.

 

* * *

 

Jin is pacing.

 

Lars is actually surprised by the behavior, not to mention agitated, but having Alisa close by alleviates most of that. He didn’t take Jin to be the pacing kind. Maybe he really isn’t. That would certainly go a long way in explaining why he’s making Lars so uncomfortable.

 

It has been about ten minutes since Lee left the room to take a phone call, not really in a flurry of tension, but concerned enough that it has evidently set Jin off. Something about the way he responds to the people around him has made Lars wonder if his ability to read – and maybe even sense, who knows with this kid – the emotions of others is more fine-tuned than he lets on.

 

The fact that he’s still in the same room as them without Lee is astonishing. Jin clearly prefers to keep his own company, but since the first day, something about Lee has kept him tethered close by. Maybe he feels like he needs to keep an eye on him, maybe he feels like Lee knows the most about what’s going on, maybe he trusts him a little (or not at all) somehow? Lars can’t be certain, but whatever the reason, Jin has decided to keep Lee within his sights and to calmly refrain from being alone with anyone else.

 

Despite all of this and whatever misgivings he may have about the group of them, he’s still giving Lee his privacy in this moment. Hence the pacing.

 

Eventually though, he stops, his head whipping in the direction of the door that Lee had disappeared through earlier. Sure enough, moments later, Lee reenters the room with a troubled look on his face.

 

“Jin.” His voice is grave, and the younger man gives him his full attention at the sound of it. “Do you remember anything about being in the Middle East?”

 

Jin’s eyebrows furrow, his expression turning faintly pained for several moments before he shakes his head, looking frustrated.

 

“No.” He says, and although the word is hesitant, he is being completely truthful. “...nothing that makes sense.”

 

“I see.” A pause. For a moment, Lars actually sees Lee debating what – if anything – to say next. “...alright then.”

 

“What is it?” Whatever just happened, Jin noticed as well, and he isn’t having it. He looks fiercer all of a sudden, turning to face Lee full-on. “Don’t keep secrets from me. What did you find out?”

 

“I’ve had my agents sweeping your trail, cleaning things up and keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.” Lee explains. “One of them discovered...well. It seems that someone else besides Lars and the U.N. was out there looking for you, too.”

 

At his words, Jin’s expression changes, his eyes going slightly unfocused for a moment as the sentence seems to trigger a memory of some sort.

 

“There was...one of the towns...someone...” he murmurs, almost to himself, and Lee nods.

 

“You know him from the tournaments, Jin.”  He says, and Jin inhales sharply.

 

“Is he alive?” He demands. His voice is still soft, but there’s a tone of urgency there that Lars is unfamiliar with. “Or did I...?”

 

“He’s alive. I’m having him sent here so I can take a look at his eye.”

 

Jin pales. “His eye?”

 

“He sustained a serious head wound at some point, probably when he encountered you. The doctors there weren’t able to help very much. I’m going to see what I can do, but given the amount of time that has passed, I certainly can’t promise anything.”

 

“You have to try.” Jin says quietly. “...please.”

 

“Of course.” Lee reassures him. Jin nods and then, as if deciding that he’s had enough socialization for one day, leaves the room. Lars waits until he’s sure he’s gone before speaking.

 

“What was that about?” He asks, and Lee sighs.

 

“Hwoarang. He’s a fighter from the tournaments.” He replies, and Lars blinks. That name...it’s familiar somehow. He looks to Alisa for clarification, which she unfailingly provides, as usual.

 

“He was a member of the grassroots resistance movement we encountered.” She explains. “A Taekwondo fighter from Korea. Jin Kazama was his primary concern at the time.”

 

Lars nods, remembering now. Bright hair, intense demeanor – he fought with a force beyond his years and with a skill that could only be forged in fire. He’d seemed like a wild card, but the tightness around his eyes and the bitterness in his voice spoke of deeper things. He was simultaneously everything and nothing like you thought he should be, an untamed street fighter with the discipline of a student and the precision of a soldier.

 

“Yeah. He was a little rough around the edges, but capable. Good instincts.”

 

Lee nods, too. “He used to be...a friend of sorts to Jin. A little more than that, if you catch my drift." Lars sputters slightly at the implication, but Lee continues undeterred. "They used to be rivals as well, but Hwoarang never gave up on that like Jin did. He must’ve found out that he was in the Middle East and followed him there, only to have the United Nations interfere.”

 

“But you’re going to have him brought here? Aren’t there other doctors who can take care of this?”

 

“Perhaps,” Lee says smoothly, “But I’m perfectly qualified to handle this. If you want something done right, you should do it yourself, yes?”

 

“We have more important things to worry about than that.” Lars protests, but Lee shakes his head firmly.

 

“You’re missing the point. It isn’t just about that – it’s about Jin.”

 

Lars is about to speak again before it occurs to him, sudden and all-too familiar. _Ah_. This is just another thing that Lee knows that he doesn’t. Judging by the look on his face and his general defensiveness of Jin, this is also one of things that he simply _won’t_ tell him. _Gah_. This man is unbelievable.

 

Lars tries a different tactic. “Do you think he can help us?”

 

“It’s reasonable to assume as much, yes.” Lee muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Our causes align, and he’s a bit of a spitfire, don’t you think? Frankly, it’s getting him to back down that would be more of the challenge.”

 

He supposes that’ll have to be enough. Damned if he’ll get much more information out of Lee than that, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Alisa is right. He does think too much.

 

He’d never really considered it before, despite having been told as much by plenty of other people. Tougou in particular used to rib him for that one, teasing that if he kept brooding so much he was going to get lost inside his own head. A harmless exchange of humor between friends, really, but now one that only serves to upset him. Why is it that Tougou is always the first place his mind goes when he’s alone for too long?

 

He knows why. They’ve been dealing so extensively with Kazuya’s shit lately that it’s all he can think about. _This is the man who killed my best friend_. No matter what their final plan may end up being, that truth will always weigh on him. It’s a burden he has to live with now, but so much of him doesn’t want to that it makes it hard to handle sometimes.

 

Lars sighs, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. He’s seen all he needs to for now. Outside the window, the land is mostly barren, save a few formations. He’d been the one to suggest the location for their latest safe house, but now he can’t even remember that. _Impressive work, Alexandersson_. Can’t even keep a squad together. Can’t even protect your friends. Can’t even get a straight answer out of a man that you could probably –

 

“Lars?”

 

At the sound of Alisa’s voice, soft and curious in the relative quiet, he smiles. He can’t help himself. The gesture just...happens, muscles working to shape his mouth before he even has the wherewithal to realize that they’re moving. It’s amazing what she does to him, how her voice alone shakes away the darkness of his thoughts.

 

“I’m here, Alisa.”

 

He hears her approaching, footsteps lighter than any human’s would ever be. She’s so dainty, yet so unimaginably fierce – he’s been on the receiving end of her rocket-powered kicks enough times to know that she is so much more than she seems. Pink hair, innocent eyes, a fondness for flowers and pretty things...it’s all just as much a part of her as her killer instincts, as her deadly precision, as her devastating strength. How deceiving her looks can be. He wonders if that was intentional. He wonders if it really matters.

 

Because now, what really matters is that she’s here, that she’s herself. Whole. Happy. The fact that they’re together again is just an added bonus to the whole affair, one that he cherishes with all his heart.

 

He feels her settle down beside him, folding her legs neatly up underneath her, probably resting her hands together in her lap. He loves how she always does that, folds her hands together...it’s so endearing, and such a characteristic behavior. She settles beside him and does not speak, at least for a while – he appreciates that. He appreciates everything she does.

 

“Everything alright?” He asks, breaking the silence himself.

 

“It would not seem so.” She answers. She leaves him to ponder that with a thoughtful pause before continuing. “You are troubled. I wish to offer aid.”

 

Lars opens his eyes, sits upright again. Looks down at her where she sits beside him, a vision of porcelain that’s tougher than the strongest of steel.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me so much, you know,” he says. “You have a lot of other things to be concerned about.”

 

“Friends assist their friends in their moments of need, do they not?” She inquires, peering up at him.

 

“Well, yeah. That’s the ideal, anyway.”

 

Alisa nods sagely. “And are we not friends?”

 

Something about her solemnity throws him for a moment, but he recovers quickly. “Yeah. We are.”

 

“Then it is settled. I will help you, if you’ll let me.”

 

Lars chuckles despite himself, leaning his head back against the wall again for a moment. _Oh, Tougou. You would like her_. So straightforward, so true of heart, so willing to help. His friend would’ve said that she and Lars were similar – Lars would’ve said the same about her and Tougou. Both of them always reaching out, always holding on, always trying to help him with those thoughts of his.

 

“Can you stay?” He shifts as he asks the question, opening himself up to let her in closer. “That would help.”

 

His eyes are closed again, but he feels her cuddle in next to him, snuggling against his chest like she knows exactly how to fit there. Like she was meant to fit there. He puts his arm around her and just breathes, savoring the weight of her body against his own and the warmth inside his heart.

 

* * *

 

The only indication that Lars gets regarding Hwoarang’s appearance is Jin suddenly appearing in the training rooms downstairs. He and Alisa have been down there for about an hour already, running through drills and checking each other’s forms (Lars isn’t entirely sure how to coach Alisa on much, but at least she seems interested in learning military tactics) when Jin all but storms in, agitated beyond measure. He ignores them, for the most part, but Lars can feel the veritable waves of _leave me alone_ coming off of him as he centers himself in front of a punching bag. Given his general disposition, it’s probably better to do as he’s implying.

 

Which is how he ends up finding out exactly what is going on. Upon discovering that Lee’s location is indeed the infirmary, Alisa confirms Lars’ suspicions that they’ve just added another person to their alliance roster. Assuming Hwoarang is still in fighting condition after whatever happened to him in the Middle East, anyway. With Lee currently busying himself over the new arrival and little else to do in the meantime, Lars resigns himself to waiting. Alisa, in all her endless charity, remains by his side.

 

Eventually, Lee appears, almost unrecognizable in his set of scrubs. Lars is surprised.

 

“You operated on him?”

 

“A bit,” Lee replies, although he’s obviously distracted. “Can’t invent shit if you don’t know how things work, or...whatever.”

 

Lars glances at Alisa, who seems a little wiser to the meaning of the vague and nonsensical statement than he is. “Will he be alright?”

 

“Hm? Oh, yes, it would seem that way. A little miraculous, really, but these kids are made of steel. I don’t think a full firing squad could take the bastard out.”

 

The imagery is rather on the dark side, but Lars knows that’s just how Lee’s sense of humor manifests sometimes, especially when he isn’t filtering himself. Still, the injuries must’ve been some level of severe in order to merit a comparison like _that_.

 

“What happened to him?” Lars asks. It takes Lee a few moments to answer.

 

“Based on the reports and late-stage analyses...a small U.N. grenade went off very close to him.” He says slowly, seemingly not quite knowing what information to respond with. “He suffered head trauma and damage to his eye. We did what we could, given that we’re a little late to the game here...we’ll have to wait and find out if we changed anything when he wakes up.”

 

Confirmed head and eye injury. This doesn’t look good. Even if the kid is tough as nails, recovering from something like that will take time that they don’t have. What exactly is Lee thinking? Won’t this be more trouble than it’s worth?

 

“That sounds like a lot to contend with,” Lars ventures, but Lee shuts him down before he really even has the chance to start, suddenly more focused than before.

 

“I can guarantee that, injury or no injury, he’ll be of great use to us.” He replies, a strange calmness to his voice that Lars knows better than to trust. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go clean up.”

 

Lars decides that it’s best to leave him to his own devices for a while, let him get himself settled again before trying to interact with him too extensively. Lee may be brilliant and charismatic and a million other things at once, but even he has his limits sometimes – Lars imagines that post-operation Lee is probably a little less cordial than most of the man’s other personal iterations, and with good reason. Surgical procedures are certainly nothing to treat as trivial matters, although neither is global warfare.

 

“I can’t believe he operated on him,” Lars mutters, not really meaning to say it aloud but then deciding to go with it. “I thought he preferred engineering. Mechanics. Technical stuff.”

 

“We actually discussed something of this nature on our way to come see you.” Alisa offers, lifting a finger in an amusingly Lee-like gesture. “He possesses extensive knowledge on a variety of medical matters in addition to his more preferential focus on strict mechanics. His company specializes in ergonomics and human factors technology in addition to his more personal projects, and most of the products are of his design, so it is only logical to cultivate awareness of all potential manufacturing opportunities.”

 

“But taking that so far as to being able to perform a surgery?” Lars asks. “He has some of the best doctors in the world here. Did they really need his help with this?”

 

“Most likely not – however, I assume that he wanted to be present in case anything went wrong, as well as to see if there was anything supplemental he would need to invent later.”

 

“I see.”

 

All in all, it’s definitely food for thought. With Hwoarang here, conscious or no, the dynamic has shifted. What yet remains to be seen is whether or not Lee will continue to be overqualified for everything he decides to put his hands on and if this whole side project with Jin and Hwoarang will actually make a difference in their plans.

 

When Lars sees Lee again, he looks much better, less strained around the eyes and more aware of his surroundings. He greets Lars with a cheerful smile when he spots him.

 

“Have you seen Jin?” He inquires. “I need to speak with him.”

 

“Last I saw him, he was in the training rooms.” Lars replies. “I’m not sure if it’s wise to approach him, though.”

 

Lee tilts his head. “Oh?”

 

“He seemed rather...agitated by your decision to bring Hwoarang here. I’m not sure yet if it’s safe to say that he’s calmed down since then.” He cautions, but Lee just laughs.

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

“You don’t think this was a bad idea?”

 

“On the contrary – you’ve just confirmed that this is a good idea.” Lee says brightly. “Many thanks.”

 

“What?”

 

“You misunderstand his behavior. He was agitated because he was _worried_ , Lars. That’s why I have to tell him that everything went fine and that Hwoarang is going to be okay.”

 

“You – you’re sure about this?”

 

“Oh, of course. He’s an open book, you know?”

 

And Lee isn’t wrong about that. Jin really isn’t the most unreadable of individuals, despite the fact that he insists on closing himself off the way he does. Lars has worked with a few people like him before, although a front like that will get cracked pretty soon in his line of business – still, can there really be _that_ much that Lars is missing? Perhaps he’ll have to start paying more attention to the smaller nuances of Jin’s behavior.

 

“If you say so.” Lars acquiesces. “Still, I would advise care in addressing him.”

 

“As always.”

 

He smiles at Lars then, casual and easy as you please, before heading off to find Jin. Lars watches him go, wondering (not for the first time, and certainly not for the last) exactly what he’s thinking.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you ever worry that something is going to happen?”

 

“Not really. Why bother when you’re doing all the worrying for me?”

 

* * *

 

Things do change for the better, much to Lars’ surprise. It isn’t momentous by most people’s standards, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s a fucking miracle. He never expected this.

 

Clearly, Jin had not expected this, either.

 

This entire situation has clearly severely disarmed him, almost to the point that he seems unable to reestablish his own equilibrium. He’s breaking his own image left and right, showcasing all the fractures in his armor anytime someone so much as implies that they might be talking about Hwoarang. It’s an obvious weakness – not in a bad way as far as Lars is concerned, but he knows that Jin would definitely disagree – but he seems incapable of rectifying it. He wants to know more about what’s happening, and he’s being entirely unsubtle about it.

 

Jin lingers, takes his time. Finds some excuse or another to wait around for Lee to be done checking on him. He never approaches on his own accord, but when Lee comes to him and gives him updates on Hwoarang’s condition, he doesn’t protest.

 

The first time Lee asks if he wants to see him, Lars actually witnesses Jin Kazama hesitate, some strange expression crossing his face for a moment before he shakes his head.

 

“No.” He says quietly. “I shouldn’t.”

 

Lee doesn’t push the matter much, shrugging.

 

“Alright. Suit yourself.”

 

Because he’s Lee, though, he doesn’t walk away from it without imparting one last little piece of bait, either.

 

“Thought I should tell you, though – he says your name in his sleep sometimes.”

 

The expression that crosses Jin’s face is indecipherable to Lars, but the poorly-hidden longing in his eyes definitely isn’t.

 

* * *

 

In the midst of all this war nonsense, his life still finds personal ways to mess with him. This sort of thing definitely falls into that category.

 

“Lee taught me how to fold paper into little animals and flowers.” Alisa is explaining to him cheerfully, looking delighted by her own handiwork. “I did not possess any information regarding the subject in my existing database, so I downloaded more patterns to learn on my own. Would you care to join me in making some?”

 

Lars stares at the folded paper crane in his hands, a strange tightness building in his throat. Really, this is just...excellent. Fucking excellent. And of course he isn’t prepared enough to hide his expression from Alisa, who notices that something is wrong almost immediately.

 

“Lars? Is something the matter?”

 

Her voice is so gentle. He still wishes he didn’t have to explain this, though.

 

“...it’s nothing.”

 

Alisa sets down her paper rose, peering at him more intently. “Lars...”

 

Lars sighs, placing the crane she gave him next to her flower. They look rather picturesque next to each other...harmless, pretty even. Innocent and lovely and certainly nothing to be getting emotional over. Still, it’s too late for that now, and it’s almost all he can do to answer her calmly.

 

“...I had a friend who used to fold these.” He says eventually, lightly touching the crane’s little wing with his finger. “Before missions, for special occasions...I still have the ones he would make for my birthday each year. It...it meant something to us. I guess it still does...to me, anyway.”

 

He’d never had much of a hand for them. For all of his finesse with combat and handling guns, delicate work like this had made him look clumsy. Unwieldy. Tougou could fold anything he wanted to, could’ve been anyone he wanted to be. Could’ve gone somewhere, done something. Folded paper cranes and butterflies and flowers for other people in the years he should’ve had.

 

Lars doesn’t have to look at Alisa to know that she knows. But when she touches his hand, it still feels good to know that he isn’t alone.

 

* * *

 

Lee, as usual, is right.

 

Compared to him and the other characters that Lars is used to contending with, Jin and Hwoarang are fairly transparent in comparison. There isn’t a single thing about them that isn’t easily discernible, even though they both defiantly try and pretend otherwise. Lars had always seen it, but now with the added motivation (and Lee’s deliberate prodding) he’s starting to think that he understands what his most enigmatic ally has been getting at.

 

Now that Hwoarang has been discharged from intensive care, it seems as though nothing short of actual death will be able to put him back there. It’s amazing how well he’s recovered, but if he’s aware of that, the knowledge takes absolutely no precedence over how he conducts himself from the moment he is no longer confined to the infirmary. As a matter of fact, any sort of acknowledgement for mortality evidently doesn’t factor into any of his decision-making processes, because the first thing he does after being debriefed and released is locate Jin and attempt to beat the shit out of him.

 

Which is. Which is absolutely not unusual, especially for him, but it’s definitely surprising - if not alarming - on principle. Jin seems to think so, too, although he schools himself pretty quickly once he realizes what’s going on. The kid doesn’t even have his bandages off, for crying out loud.

 

That time, Lee has to separate them, but Lars can tell by his visible amusement that he isn’t concerned about this having any lasting repercussions on his master plan. Based on what he already knows and what he’s been told, Lars is fairly certain that nothing they could do to each other now would ever be the real wrench in their relationship – Jin has already well-surpassed that point, after all – but in some ways, bygones seem to be bygones. Not all of them, but much to Lars’ steadily-mounting concern, they seem to be the nonessentials.

 

In other words, Hwoarang seems to be fine with the fact that Jin almost killed him once, but stiff-arming him out of a proper rematch is just unforgivable.

 

The thing about Hwoarang is that he’s rebellious. Lars has seen his type in the force before, knows them very well – every other soldier with chip on their shoulder walked and talked just like him, confident, brash, devil-may-care. Dismissive of authority, reckless on the job, and way too self-assured for their own good, these kinds of people are volatile at the best and worst of times, often too much so. Volatility, while a dangerous weapon to use against the enemy, is nonetheless a threat to the ally who wields it as well.

 

The difference is that Hwoarang is disciplined. Lars can tell by the way that he carries himself, by the shrewd judgement in his eyes when he meets him face-to-face for the second time. Hwoarang recognizes him, but doesn’t mention it, just takes the whole exchange in stride and moves on with his life. Lars can tell pretty quickly that he’s not interested in him, especially since he already knows to some extent what he’s capable of, combat-wise.

 

Hwoarang pretty much only has eyes for Jin.

 

This, Lars expected. He recalls enough about their initial encounter to have guessed that much, and coupled with Lee’s current information, Lars knows well that Hwoarang’s personal agenda is fairly limited. At least he also actually seems to care about stopping Kazuya and saving the world, unlike _some_ people around here. Even if he can be aggressive about these things, he still has the right idea.

 

Jin, for all of his clear concerns, is very obviously Not Thrilled by Hwoarang’s persistence. Still, in a strange way, he tolerates it. Lars supposes that he’s just happy to see the other man alive, and is willing – for now, anyway – to put up with his attitude. It’s something of a dysfunctional dynamic, but it’s not the worst he’s ever seen, it’s just...inexperienced. Tentative. Almost like they’re seeing each other for the first time.

 

Sometimes it’s enough to make him wonder if Hwoarang really can help Jin, after all.

 

* * *

 

Kazuya continues his reign of terror, and Lee continues his charade of nonchalance.

 

The man is fucking unflappable, something that Lars would find admirable if Lee didn’t also seem completely disinterested in the matter. He just doesn’t appear to _care_ about what Kazuya is doing, despite the fact that it’s directly relevant and it’s _kind_ of what they’re all here for. His unshakable calmness is infuriating, and Lars isn’t sure if he can take it anymore. This is important. Kazuya is a threat, and if Lee won’t acknowledge that, then...

 

Well, what can he do? Lee is keeping this entire operation afloat right now, and even though Lars could probably find another way to pull this off, there just isn’t enough _time_. They’re in way over their heads as it is – to back out of this core alliance _now_ would be absolutely disastrous. Lee’s resources are instrumental to nearly every plan they could possibly come up with.

 

Besides, there’s more at stake here than just ease of access. If Lars abandons this arrangement, he’ll be losing the cause’s most valuable asset: Jin.

 

Even now, Lars can already tell that Jin is unwilling to separate himself from Lee’s operations. _Why_ , exactly, such a thing is the case, he is completely unsure. Despite Lee’s efforts to behave in a trustworthy fashion and his careful appraisal of Jin’s needs, the two seem as though they should be inherently incompatible. Lee is a living contradiction and Jin is sincere to a fault – the idea of them having any sort of functional rapport is ridiculous. He must be missing something.

 

Regardless, it doesn’t matter. Jin is staying, so Lars is staying. However, he isn’t planning on letting this sit a moment longer. He’s going to find Lee and discuss a course of action _right now_.

 

...of course, that would be much easier if he could actually _get_ to Lee right now. As it is, the man’s door is sealed shut, and Lars doesn’t know the access codes required to bypass it. He really would rather not have to go ask Alisa to hack into the mainframe and open the door for him, but if Lee doesn’t answer after these next few knocks, he is absolutely going to.

 

“Perhaps it is best if you do not disturb him.”

 

Lars glances back to see Alisa standing behind him in the shadows of an adjacent hallway, hands folded against her chest and brow furrowed in a disarmingly human set of gestures.

 

“Alisa?”

 

She steps forward, coming close enough to rest a hand against his shoulder. Again, disarming. She’s learning very quickly.

 

“He is resting, Lars.” She says quietly. “It is better at the moment if you leave him be.”

 

Lars turns, then, looking at her incredulously. “Do we have the time for that? You were there when the latest report came through earlier.”

 

Alisa nods. “He received it as well. Trust that he has done something about it.”

 

 _Trust him_. The idea leaves an unsettlingly bitter taste in Lars’ mouth, one that he despises as much as he understands it. He is justified in his feelings either way.

 

“Forgive me for not being sold on that one.” He says darkly. “Alisa, are you sure?”

 

“I promise, Lars.” She assures him. The sincerity in her eyes is almost painful. “Let us go elsewhere.”

 

She offers a hand to him, waiting. Something in the back of Lars’ head mentions that she learned it from him.

 

“...alright.” He sighs, accepting the invitation. “I trust you.”

 

She says nothing, but the way their fingers link together says it for her.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you want him dead?”

 

“I want a drink, Lars.”

 

* * *

 

Again, he is in the wrong place at the wrong time, and all the secrets he learns about Lee are the ones he doesn’t want to know.

 

Lars has a good reason for being in the infirmary. _Someone_ (read: Hwoarang) doesn’t know how to properly restock the bandages they keep using, so Lars has found himself constantly having to fix up all the First-Aid kits in the building like some kind of medical nanny. He doesn’t know when this became his designated role in their somewhat grudging group dynamic, but honestly, he’s past caring at this point. He’s just trying to make it through the day without having to bodily pin anyone to the floor.

 

What he’s not trying to do is walk in on Lee vomiting into the sink, but. Shit happens sometimes.

 

For some reason, he panics, backing out of the room and pressing himself against the outside wall like he’ll be in trouble if he gets caught seeing such a thing. He doesn’t know _why_ that’s his first reaction to witnessing the older man in that kind of distress, but now he’s gone and confused himself. What the hell is the protocol for something like this?

 

From inside the room, he hears Lee turn the faucet on. The white noise helps, although it does little to mitigate the unsettling sound of him retching into the basin for what feels like years. Even when the gagging eventually stops, Lars remains frozen against the wall, listening for any sign of a relapse.

 

Lee coughs.

 

“You need bandages again?”

 

Lars almost jumps at the sound of his voice, rough and tired and entirely unexpected. Still, it’s fairly obvious that Lee has been aware of his presence for quite some time (possibly the whole time), so there’s really no point in hedging around the embarrassing act of coming into the room behind him.

 

“Sorry.” He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing. Neither does Lee, evidently, because he makes a small noise that resembles a sighing laugh in response.

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

There’s an array of pill bottles on the counter, heavy-duty narcotics and the like that set off alarm bells in Lars’ head. None of them appear to be opened except for one, but he finds himself pressing the issue all the same.

 

“Are you...?”

 

“Headache.” Lee says simply. His visage certainly speaks to that – physically, he looks the worst that Lars has ever seen him. “Stress headache, specifically. I’ve gotten them for years, and they...well. They can get pretty bad. It's fine. I’m. I’m used to it by now.”

 

He says that, but Lars doesn’t miss the way he’s bracing himself against the counter, the way his arms are shaking, the way he looks like he’s about to collapse any second. He looks exhausted and sick, nothing like what Lars has gotten accustomed to, and it’s strange.

 

In a lot of ways, it’s terrifying.

 

“...is there anything I can do to help?” Lars asks, but Lee waves him off. His hands are shaking, too.

 

“Don’t think about it.” It’s the least-convincing assurance Lars has ever heard. “And no, I didn’t take all of those. I was just looking for the ones that still help.”

 

Belatedly, it occurs to Lars that he’s referring to the pills on the counter.

 

“I didn’t – ”

 

“I know what it looks like, Alexandersson.” Lee says wryly. “Believe me, I’ve seen it all before.”

 

For once, Lars doesn’t doubt him, doesn't say anything about it. He just helps him put it all away, gets what he came for, and they never speak of it again.

 

* * *

 

Another day, another infinitely repeating pattern, and Jin and Hwoarang are fighting again.

 

Not literally, thank God – as stubborn as they both are, they’re also in much weaker states than usual, and putting too much strain on their bodies at this point in time will only do more harm than good. Most notably, it’ll put their entire team behind schedule and make them all the more susceptible to any attack that Kazuya might decide to leverage their way. They at least have the good sense to keep their fists to themselves.

 

For now, anyway.

 

Jin can be counted on to keep the physical violence to a minimum, what with his fear of hurting others and his general disdain for argumentative behavior. Hwoarang is argumentative behavior personified, especially where Jin is concerned, and he has little to no sense of self-preservation when it comes to avoiding a fight that he probably can’t win. Lars already knew that much – it takes a special brand of bravery-stupidity to challenge Devil Jin willingly – but this is honestly getting out of hand. Hwoarang doesn’t know when to quit, and Jin doesn’t know how to stop him. Considering the story that Lars has been told about the fifth tournament, there is probably just about nothing that Jin _can_ do to stop him unless Hwoarang actually dies or somehow changes his mind on his own.

 

Based on Hwoarang’s attitude since he arrived, the latter occurrence seems just about as likely as Lee ditching robotics in favor of botany, especially since he and Jin _continuously_ get into the same vein of discourse. Lars has overheard it so many times now that he doesn’t even feel the need to listen in anymore, trusting in the familiar (if not pointless) circles it goes in.

 

“You can’t keep shutting everyone out,” Hwoarang is saying from the other room, strained frustration evident in his voice. “That’s what got you into this mess in the first fucking place, or don’t you remember?”

 

“It was much more than that.” Jin replies quietly, but he sounds annoyed, too. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

 

“Do I even have to? That shit is over now – you have a chance to make things better, you’re not really gonna waste it, are you?”

 

“It’s never over.” Jin bites out. “It will _never_ be over, that’s why I can’t do as you keep asking. Why can’t you – ?”

 

“Because you’re a dumbass, that’s why.”

 

“I’m trying to protect you.”

 

“ _I don’t want you to_.”

 

“I can’t hurt you like that again – ”

 

“I promise this is worse, Kazama. I can fucking guarantee it.”

 

“ _Hwoarang_ – ”

 

“ _Jin_.”

 

Silence. As it stretches into seeming infinity, Lars withdraws from his book, realizing with a belated sense of surprise that Hwoarang actually used Jin’s given name this time around. He’s never done that before, preferring to toss around the slightly aggressive and infinitely less-familiar “Kazama”.

 

Jin and Hwoarang are fighting again, but this time, something finally snaps.

 

The silence is beginning to concern him when he suddenly hears them again, the distinct sound of someone getting grabbed by the shirt immediately followed by a muffled noise of surprise from Jin. That. That is much more concerning, and Lars is starting to get up when they start talking again.

 

“We can’t do this,” Jin says, and Lars blinks at the amount of despair in his voice. “Hwoarang, we – we _can’t_.”

 

“I’m not giving up on you,” Hwoarang pants. “Wherever you go, I go, too.”

 

“You’ll only get hurt doing that.” Jin tries, and Hwoarang growls.

 

“Don’t care. I want you more than I give a shit about staying out of trouble.”

 

More rustling, more unidentifiable sounds – Lars has all but given up on trying to police them at this point, waiting for the possibility of a punch being thrown but little else.

 

“Stay.” Hwoarang begs. “Please. And let me stay, too.”

 

Whatever Jin’s reply is, Lars can’t hear it, but he doesn’t have to.

 

Somehow, something has changed.

 

* * *

 

“Did you already know that Kazuya could transform like that?”

 

To his credit, Lee doesn’t miss a beat, never once faltering in his typing at Lars’ rather bold-faced inquiry.

 

“Transform like how?”

 

Lars mentally counts to ten. “Like how he did on the news. Into that monster.”

 

Lee doesn’t answer him for a while, persisting in his work as though he hadn’t heard anything. Lars doesn’t budge an inch. He can see how hard he’s thinking.

 

“What brought this on?” Lee asks eventually, eyes scanning his computer screen before flicking up to meet Lars’ briefly. “A little personal, don’t you think?”

 

And perhaps it is. Lee’s secrets are none of Lars’ business. None of this is. Not the way he practically safeguards Kazuya’s information, not the way he looks after Jin, especially not his seeming fondness for the both of them. It’s unfathomable to Lars, but it’s not his place to know.

 

At this point, he doesn’t care.

 

“It’s a matter of national security.” He says tightly, and Lee blinks.

 

“I suppose it could be considered as such now, couldn’t it.”

 

“ _Lee_.”

 

“My, my. What’s gotten into you, Alexandersson?” His words are polite, but his tone carries an undercurrent of warning. _Step too far forward and you will regret it_. It’s the first time that Lars has heard it directed towards him. “We’re handling matters as they come, are we not?”

 

“ _You_ are handling matters.” Lars corrects. “ _I_ am simply trying to understand what’s happening. The information you keep to yourself is valuable to our cause. Why do you insist on hiding what you know?”

 

Lars has his full attention now. Lee shuts his laptop with a snap, placing it aside, but he doesn’t stand up. Yet. Lars can feel the tension in the room and knows that it could snap fairly soon, especially if he keeps pushing like this.

 

Which he will.

 

“I allocate my intelligence based on need.” Lee speaks slowly, gazing steadily at Lars as though daring him to be contradictory. “I have told you what you need to know in order to be successful – if there’s something you’re not privy to, it’s because it’s irrelevant to your work.”

 

Lars shakes his head. “No. Everything is relevant to my work here. There are things you’re not telling me, and if you won’t tell me, then I at least want the real reason as to why.”

 

“You know enough. Anything beyond that won’t help you.”

 

“Try again.”

 

“No, I won’t.” Lee says coldly. “I don’t care what you think you need – you don’t. My reasons for doing this are mine and mine alone, and this will be handled the way I see fit. If you have a different idea, go ahead and give it a fucking shot since you’re so damn ready to throw down with Kazuya, but good luck getting anywhere without my help.”

 

“We would be closer to our objective if you weren’t trying to protect him,” Lars retorts. “You know more about him than anyone else here – that’s key information. You’re withholding intel, and – and for what?”

 

“My input on your plans is so I don’t _need_ to tell you everything, Alexandersson.” Lee bites out. “You’ve seen enough. I’ve told you enough. Everything else is inconsequential.”

 

“I don’t believe you.” Lars scoffs, and the older man huffs.

 

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.” He snaps, and it’s so damn petty that Lars sees red for a moment.

 

“I don’t understand.” He says vehemently. “Aren’t you supposed to be the good brother?”

 

Lee stops, expression shifting from livid to utterly dumbfounded in the span of a microsecond. His mouth moves, evidently trying to form words, before he gives up on trying and just shakes his head, laughing under his breath.

 

“What – whatever gave you _that_ idea?” He’s laughing _at_ him, an incredulous look on his face. Lars frowns.

 

“You’ve helped me countless times, even when the costs outweighed the benefits. You repaired Alisa without asking for anything in return. You’ve even been looking after those kids when they need it. I know you don’t do these things from an altruistic standpoint, but goddammit, you’re on our side, aren’t you? So why are you keeping Kazuya Mishima’s secrets?”

 

Lee sighs, shaking his head again. He seems to do that a lot whenever Lars is around these days.

 

“Don’t pin any sort of role onto me that I haven’t explicitly taken on myself.” He says quietly, still looking at Lars as though he can’t believe what he’s just said. “I’ve never claimed to be anything but your benefactor in this scenario. My stakes in this are entirely personal, and _you_ don’t get to decide what of _my_ life I reveal to you just because we’re in this shit together. _No one_ knows what I know, and that’s the point. You shouldn’t know – you _can’t_ know that much about Kazuya. You already know too much, and what little is left is something you don’t deserve.”

 

He means it both ways when he says that, an insurmountable paradox if there ever was one. Just like the man himself.

 

“I’m not the good brother, Lars.” Lee levels him with just a gaze, infinity reflecting in his eyes. “You are.”

 

* * *

 

This should be easy.

 

The decision he needs to make here. Not this whole scenario – this kind of shit is never easy. Too much collateral, too many casualties. But. But this. Why can’t he do this?

 

_Why is this so hard?_

 

That pressure that Lee so obviously feels, he feels it, too. It’s so different than what he’s used to, so all-consuming in comparison. Is it because of Tougou? Is it because of all the people who have died from this? Because of all the people whose lives have been ruined? Even the people here, Jin, Hwoarang, Lee, himself – they’re all the same. Broken apart by the same old shit and thrown back together as quickly as they could because they didn’t have a choice.

 

Will they ever have a choice?

 

“Lars?”

 

Alisa hovers in the doorway, looking concerned. When he doesn’t reply (because he can’t, he _can’t_ , his throat is too tight), she comes forward.

 

“Lars.” She repeats, touching his face. Her fingertips are cool against his skin, and he silently revels in it. “Are you alright?”

 

He doesn’t know how to answer her. It isn’t a truth versus lie situation, not at all – he literally doesn’t know what to say, how to express what he’s feeling. How to explain this bizarre weight building up on his shoulders in addition to the one he’s been carrying since this all started. How to give a name to this steadily-mounting stress and weariness. All he could say to try and beat his way through the uncertainties would take too long, would run the risk of rambling. He is a squad leader. He owes it to his men to be clear, to be concise.

 

He owes it to Alisa to be strong, to be right.

 

“...I don’t know.” He confesses, shaking his head. “This...this isn’t going like how I thought it would.”

 

She nods sagely. “Unmet expectations certainly are difficult to reconcile. But,” she continues, “Expectations hold us back. We must live in the moment and take life for what it is, even when we are attempting something as bold as this.”

 

“How am I supposed to reconcile something like _this?_ ”

 

“If I could answer that, wouldn’t you have asked me as much already?”

 

That’s such an _Alisa_ thing to say. As much as it doesn’t answer his question, it relieves him all the same, because at least _she_ is something he can count on. Alisa isn’t pressure or fear or the crushing weight of everything he’s done wrong. She’s just _Alisa_ , and he couldn’t be more grateful for that.

 

“There are many different ways to accomplish the same thing, Lars.” Alisa counsels, thumb gently stroking his cheek. He doesn’t know where she learned that, and honestly, he doesn’t care. “Are you not tired of the bloodshed as well?”

 

“Of course I am.” Lars says. “But the bloodshed won’t stop if we can’t take care of Kazuya.”

 

“Must he die in order to be stopped?” She inquires, and Lars almost scoffs.

 

“Of course. There’s no way – ”

 

“Isn’t there?”

 

Her eyes are peering effortlessly into his soul, laying everything within him bare. He is consciously aware that he is stripped of his defenses like this, but maybe now is the time.

 

“How can there be?” He finally asks.

 

“There is much more to him than you can feasibly know, I’m sure.” Alisa replies. “With so many variables, perhaps there is a way you’ve never considered.”

 

“That...that just doesn’t seem possible.” He starts, but Alisa shakes her head.

 

“I know. But the rest of this doesn’t seem possible either, does it? Let us not worry about what is possible or impossible – let us only think of what we know we can do ourselves and trust those around us to do the same.”

 

She smiles up at him, radiant and wonderful, and Lars feels his breath catch in his throat.

 

“I believe in you.” She says gently. “You need to believe in yourself, too.”

 

* * *

 

Whenever Jin is with Hwoarang, Lars thinks he might be catching glimpses of who he really is.

 

It comes in flashes, in gestures, in glances that linger for a second too long and smiles that he isn’t supposed to see. It’s Jin rising to Hwoarang’s infinite challenges, accepting what he offers. It’s the two of them laughing quietly together at some unheard comment, some long-forgotten story that no one else will be privy to. It’s Hwoarang reaching out in that way that he does, easy, honest, determined – it’s Hwoarang reaching out, and it’s Jin reaching back.

 

When they kiss each other, it’s almost casual, almost like they’ve been in a relationship for years with no silence in between. Moving around the room, getting up from the table, passing each other in the hallway, a kiss here, a touch there, a moment spent lingering in the other’s personal space.

 

Still, there’s an element of reverence to it that stems from what Lars knows to be their mutual disbelief in the reality of their situation. They’re together again, but it’s a bit of a shock for the both of them, and it shows in the way they keep reaching out to touch the other, as if constantly making sure that they’re still in front of them. According to what Lee has told him, they both have good reasons to be disbelieving.

 

Lee calls it a good first step. _To what_ , Lars wants to ask. He’s afraid to know the answer.

 

Why are they putting people back into Jin’s life when Lars is still convinced that all the kid really wants is to die?

 

* * *

 

“Aren’t you afraid he’s a lost cause?”

 

“Aren’t you a little young to be thinking someone is a lost cause?”

 

* * *

 

In between being insufferable and mysterious and charming and just plain _weird_ , Lee bonds with Jin.

 

They trust each other for some reason, mutually aware of their unseen and unmentioned boundaries. There’s an element of understanding there that allows them to exist in the same sphere without any issue. It isn’t a close relationship by any means, but it’s...something. Lee knows more about Jin, more about what makes him who he is, than he really has any right to, and he always uses that to his full advantage. Never steps too far. Never presumes too much. Never lets up. He is exactly where and how he should be at any given moment with just the slightest bit of pressure, and Lars doesn’t understand how he can manage it.

 

Why he bothers.

 

Jin, as valuable as he is, is ultimately expendable if everything goes according to plan. Lars hates to admit it, but he just doesn’t think it’s possible for Jin to survive engaging Kazuya like that. He’s strong enough that he could, but Lars knows a lost cause when he sees one.

 

Jin doesn’t want to survive the fight.

 

Lars is well-aware of that, as is Lee. It’s what has coded most of their planning from the beginning, the ridiculous precautions they’d had to formulate just in case, _just in case_ someone got it into their heads that this wasn’t worth the trouble and that they’d be better off dead before they’d even gotten started. Now that Kazuya has shown himself to be an obvious threat, Jin is more willing to cooperate, but it still doesn’t erase the heart of the problem. Again, Lars knows this. So does Lee.

 

That’s why he’s surprised to find them like this, alone in one of the side halls outside the infirmary, Jin sitting on one of the benches there and Lee standing in front of him. They haven’t noticed him, and Lars doubts that they will. Their attention is mutually focused on the other, intent and not wanting to miss anything.

 

“You still have a chance, you know,” Lee is saying, but Jin shakes his head.

 

“You don’t understand.” He sounds miserable, more openly emotional than Lars has ever heard him, even with Hwoarang. “It’s my fate.”

 

“Fate?” Lee repeats quietly, and Jin nods.

 

“Yes. I know how much I owe the world for what I’ve done – how much of a debt I’ve left unpaid. This is the life I deserve.”

 

Lee seems to consider that for a moment or two, surveying the younger man’s demeanor with a scrutinizing eye. Eventually, though, he sighs, kneeling down in front of where Jin is sitting. Lars’ surprise is mirrored in Jin’s face.

 

“If someone wanted to change their ways,” he starts, “Wanted to change how they live, how they treat others – would you take that chance from them? If they’d done something terrible – for years, maybe, who knows – but wanted to change and made active efforts to pursue such an end, would you deny them that by saying they didn’t deserve it? By saying that they deserved death instead?”

 

Jin shakes his head. “No, but – ”

 

“Then listen to me.” Lee says evenly. Jin falls silent, waiting. “That person, Jin, is _you_. You can make things better without killing yourself to do it, I swear. You _want_ things to change...Jin, the world _needs_ more people like you. You can’t just sacrifice your life and hope that things get better in your absence, _especially_ not when you’re part of the reason why everything is as bad as it is.”

 

“Then what would you have me do?” Jin sounds as though he’s dubious about the older man’s ability to provide a suitable answer, but at least he’s playing along. Lee presses onward. 

 

“You want to take responsibility for your actions?” He asks, and Jin nods. “Then live. You cannot take responsibility in death, nor in the act of dying itself. If, perhaps, on your quest to mend things you should fall, then you will have at least done it with the intention of doing your best. Living just to die is no better than entering a fight with the intent of losing. Would you ever do such a thing?” Jin shakes his head. “Of course not. You’re a fighter – act like one. You’re a Kazama – act like one. You’re the only person who can fix what you’ve done, and that’ll never happen if you’re dead.”

 

Jin says nothing, but Lars can see him thinking about it, can see the way that his back straightens and his brow furrows and his hands slowly unclench. He’s considering Lee’s words, his convictions, his proclamations – this seemingly foreign idea that dying doesn’t fix anything. Only the living can change things for the better and the dead are just that. Dead.

 

“I don’t presume to know what you’ve been through, but it’s never too late to change these sorts of things.” Lee continues gently. “I promise. I had to learn how to live again, too, and you’re much, _much_ stronger than I ever was when I started.”

 

From this distance, the details of Jin’s expression are unreadable, but Lars knows that he’s a little disarmed by Lee’s apparent admission. Lars is, too – for Lee to willingly expose any sort of personal weakness, even in hindsight, is just unheard of. Here he is with Jin, kneeling before him, practically _pleading_ with him, encouraging, open, trusting. Vulnerable.

 

Honest.

 

Lee reaches out, up, almost timid in the way that he extends his hand towards Jin. The younger man watches him, eyes widening for a moment when he realizes what he’s doing. Both of them freeze, Lee’s hand hovering, Jin’s gaze trained there – for a moment, it seems as though Lee is going to retract his arm, but then, but then, but then.

 

Lars watches in awe as Jin accepts Lee’s careful touch, bowing his head a little and even closing his eyes when the silver-haired man’s fingers sift lightly through his hair. Lee smiles that soft, fond smile that always crosses his face whenever Jin is around, enigmatic at best and condemning at worst, and Lars realizes all at once that their so-called plans have already been irreversibly changed.

 

Lee is never, _ever_ going to let this kid die.

 

* * *

 

Lars thinks this might be his favorite safe house so far. Alisa certainly agrees with him – she delights in the plants by the windowsill, examining the veins in the leaves and flowers with her advanced optics. She’s been at it for almost an hour now, and Lars feels his heart swell whenever he looks at her.

 

Jin and Hwoarang are on the other side of the room, busying themselves with writing something. Lars isn’t sure what they’re working on, but he’s heard the names of some other fighters come up a few times, so it’s possible that Jin is taking Lee’s suggestion to heart and trying to reach out. It’s possible.

 

_Let us not worry about what is possible or impossible – let us only think of what we know we can do ourselves and trust those around us to do the same._

 

Lee is beside him on the couch, looking disarmingly fragile in a thick, off-white sweater that’s slightly too big for him. Now, Lars can tell that he didn’t get any sleep last night, can tell that he spent most of that time trying to stay ahead of the game – he can see it in the heaviness of his eyes, in the way that it takes him an extra moment or two to respond when prompted.

 

When Lars asks him if he’s alright, he just sighs.

 

“I’m a little tired, Lars.” Lee admits quietly, gazing out at some infinite distance through the window. “Competing is only fun when there’s a winner.”

 

“...and no one wins in this.” Lars finishes, and Lee nods.

 

“Precisely.” The words are slow in coming, but deliberate. “Collateral’s already out of control, and there’s too much at stake for any of this to feel satisfying. If we succeed, the only relief will be that it’s over. The rest of it is something we’ll have to carry with us until we die.”

 

Lars makes a sound of agreement. Debates something. Takes the plunge.

 

“Is that why you’re worried about him?”

 

Lee doesn’t have to ask to know who he’s talking about, and his mouth curves in a rueful smile, gaze flicking over to look at Lars from the corner of his eye.

 

“You know, I think you’re even more obstinate than he is.” _Two can play the pronoun game_ , his expression says. _If you want to know, you’ll have to be ready for what I’m about to say._ Lars mentally steadies himself.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He says somewhat stiffly, not keen on being compared to Kazuya in any capacity. Lee chuckles, rearranging himself so that he's sitting cross-legged on the couch.

 

“Take it as you like,” he says breezily. “But you _are_ his half-brother. There are bound to be some callbacks.”

 

Must be strange, being reminded of your murderous adopted brother all the time. Between Lars and Jin, Lee is probably seeing ghosts 24/7.

 

“Do you hate him?”

 

The question is out before he can stop it, and Lee quirks an eyebrow. He doesn’t outright reject the query, though, so Lars waits.

 

“...that would be too easy.” He eventually says, tugging lightly at one of his overly-long sleeves. “So, yes. And no. And sometimes. And never. And always."

 

He looks back up, lips slightly pursed in thought. “I think...I’m too tired to hate him. Maybe afraid to, after seeing what it’s done. Don’t want to. Don’t need to.” A long pause. “...can’t.”

 

Lars remains silent. Lee, surprisingly, continues.

 

“We were all we had,” he elaborates, almost musing to himself. “All we would ever have, probably. Sure, we were stubborn and ambitious and so hell-bent on our own, special brands of vengeance that we were never really _close_ , but...”

 

Here, Lee trails off, seemingly unsure of what to say next. What to reveal, what to keep secret. He sighs, lowering his gaze from the window, and idly fiddles with his watch in a disarmingly nervous gesture.

 

“We were human before we were anything else, I guess, and back then, we needed each other. In a way, we...maybe I still do.”

 

It’s the way he says it, the vulnerability with which he admits it, that gets to Lars this time. It isn’t an epiphany of any kind, seeing as Lee is still enigmatic beyond reckoning, but emotions are the same across the board. He knows what it’s like to feel alone, to feel like you’re the only one who knows what it’s like to carry what you do. Being in his line of work, especially as an officer, could have that effect on you. When he’d lost Tougou, it had been more than losing a friend – it had been losing a part of _himself_. One entire half of something he could never get back. Comparing Lee and Kazuya’s relationship, whatever it might’ve been, to the one he’d shared with Tougou doesn’t make him feel too great, but it’s the principle of the thing. There are certain things that you share with certain people that no one else will ever, _ever_ be able to understand. Lars can imagine that any experience under Heihachi Mishima would qualify as such.

 

“...is that why you don’t want Jin to fight him?” Lars asks, and Lee nods.

 

“I want to find another way.” He confesses, subdued and soft. “Break the cycle. Change the equation. Stop it before it starts again, same as the last time and the time before that. Is that too much to ask for?”

 

He’s watching Jin and Hwoarang as he says this, and Lars finds himself watching them, too, the way Hwoarang lays a hand on Jin’s arm and the way Jin accepts it without question. It reminds him of Alisa, of himself, of being reached out to and realizing that you want to reach back. Of being with someone you can rely on. Of looking over to see someone who understands and accepts you for everything you are, even the parts that no one else will ever know.

 

Is that what Kazuya is to Lee? Even if they never stand together again, is just knowing he’s alive enough for Lee to feel as though he isn’t alone in the weight of what he’s lived through? Is that why he can’t turn his back on him? Is he doing this for Kazuya? Or for himself?

 

...or is it for Jin?

 

Lee is still looking at them, expression just as unreadable as his intentions. Instead of aggravation, though, Lars just feels...understanding. Acceptance. He knows enough – maybe he doesn’t need to know anymore.

 

He huffs, feeling a wry yet amused smile tugging at his mouth. Lee glances his way with a raised eyebrow, giving Lars flashbacks to the first time they’d met – charismatic and put-together, yet so damn strange and hard to gauge that it had almost given him a headache. Funny how that hasn’t changed.

 

Funny how that’s almost comforting now.

 

Lars inclines his head in Jin’s direction, and Lee looks back just in time to see him smiling, a small, secret thing that betrays his very human heart. Lars hadn’t thought he would ever see it, but the fact that he has gives him hope.

 

“I would say that you already have.”

 

Lee turns his gaze pointedly to Alisa, then back to Lars, lips quirking up in a knowing yet affectionate smile. For a moment, there’s nothing on their shoulders, nothing to keep up a pretense about – Lee tilts his head, laughs a little. Reaches out and rests his hand on Lars’ arm.

 

“I wouldn’t have bothered if it hadn’t been for you.”

 

_I’m not the good brother, Lars. You are._

 

Maybe he doesn’t have to be. Maybe what he is – whatever that may be on any given day – is just fine.

 

For now, they’re in this together, and that’s all that matters to Lars.

 

**Author's Note:**

> **Working Playlist:**
> 
> The Royal We – Silversun Pickups  
> I Know How to Make a Boy Cry (Piano Version) – Tegan Marie  
> Graveyard Whistling – Nothing But Thieves  
> Really Gone – CHVRCHES  
> Feathers – Karliene  
> Leave Like That (Piano Version) – SYML  
> Hungover in the City of Dust – Autoheart  
> Meet Me On the Battlefield - SVRCINA  
> Forget – Marina and the Diamonds


End file.
